All Lost Things
by be like lightning
Summary: After losing her bending, Korra sets out on a spiritual journey.


**Summary:** After losing her bending, Korra sets out on a spiritual journey. Finale AU.

**Disclaimer:** _Legend of Korra_ is not mine, oddly enough.

* * *

All Lost Things

Chapter 1

* * *

It starts with a whisper, and Korra _knows_ this voice, has lived it a thousand times, but in a second it's gone, carried off like a leaf in the wind, and she just can't remember how to bend. Because that's what it feels like, like she's forgotten this huge part of herself, her own name, where she's from, where she's going. Even surrounded by family and friends, she feels utterly alone, because none of them know what it's like to be the Avatar and then suddenly not, and the only one who might be able to help isn't talking. It's always just been visions with Aang, tiny fragments from the past that she has to piece together herself. Never any direct answers, not that she thinks there is one this time around.

She knows what needs to be done. One icy leap will be enough to reset the cycle, and then someone else will be born to fix her mistakes. Maybe get it right this time around. It's only selfish of her to stay because the world needs an Avatar and she just can't be that for it right now. So she inches the toe of her boot forward, lets it hover over the ledge. Her eyes close with a newfound sense of purpose.

But there's that voice again, calling her back. A whisper that builds, transforms into someone else.

**Korra**. _Korra_. "_Korra_!"

Her eyes snap open, bright blue against the cold gray landscape. She steps back to a healthier distance, and then Tenzin is beside her, and while it's not enough – might_ never _be enough – it's something. He presses his hand against her shoulder, and the weight of it tethers her to this world.

"I understand what you're going through isn't easy," Tenzin says. Korra thinks he doesn't know the half of it, but doesn't say anything because quips like that were only okay when she'd had the firepower to back them up. So instead she just stands there, silent, the last of the only tears she's shed charting cool paths down her cheeks. She reaches up a hand to rid herself of the blatant display of weakness while Tenzin continues on with his speech. "Every Avatar experiences struggle of some kind. Yours is severe, but not insurmountable."

"You don't know that," Korra mutters, still pawing at her face. She's just a shell of herself now, a hollowed-out woodcarving like the kind her father used to make when she was little. She wonders what Tonraq and Senna think of her, now that she's no longer the Southern Water Tribe's special little snowflake.

"You're right," Tenzin agrees, his tone a bit softer. "But you have the whole world behind you. If a solution exists, we'll do everything in our power to help you find it."

Korra can't take it. Tenzin's pity feels like a prison, the walls closing in around her. She needs to get out of here, away from him, so she retreats in the only way she knows how, using harsh words to distance herself. "Well_ that's _reassuring." She shrugs out from under his grip and starts making her way back to camp, Naga following closely at her heels. "Call me when you figure out how to fix the broken Avatar." Her tone grows bitter still. "Better yet, why don't you try _meditating_ on it? I'm sure that'll give you all the answers you need."

She knows this is the last thing she should be doing, pushing the people she loves away, but it feels like a necessary step, some kind of twisted liberation. What had that spiritual mumbo jumbo been going on about again? How she wasn't supposed to have any earthly attachments? Well if bending isn't going to be an option anymore, it seems the least she can do is follow that one little rule. And what better time to start than now?

* * *

Korra spends her first few weeks as an airbender surrounded by sea and ice. The South Pole will always be her home, but there is a part of her that feels largely disconnected from it. There was a time when the tides would dance beneath her fingertips and the moon would sing her to sleep, but that time has passed, and now the only thing she has to draw comfort from at night is the sound of the wind as it howls across the tundra.

If there's one good thing to come of the situation, however, it's that, after years of isolated Avatar training, Korra is allowed to live with her parents again. It's a bit awkward, of course – thirteen years of separation will do that to you – but she likes getting to know them all over again, seeing the little facets of their personalities they hadn't shared as openly when she was a kid.

For one thing, they're both stubborn as oxmules. Given the nature of her own personality, though, Korra isn't all that surprised.

She's about a week into her self-imposed exile when Senna knocks on her door, barging in before Korra can scare her away with a biting remark. She's had plenty of visitors lately, but not many have been able to stand her constant moping and liberal use of sarcasm. Senna seems to be the exception, and has no problem taking a seat in the wooden chair next to Korra's bed.

"'Morning sleepyhead," she says with a smile. Korra knows she doesn't deserve such warmth after the way she's been acting, so she just burrows her head beneath the covers and lets out what she hopes sounds like a dismissive groan.

It doesn't have the desired effect.

Smile never faltering, Senna promptly stands and rips the sheets from Korra's bed, causing the girl to tumble rather unceremoniously to the floor. "Your father has a surprise for you," Senna says, with too much enthusiasm for so early in the morning. "Time to get up."

"But _Mom_ –"

"Come on, Korra." Senna grabs her by the hand, and Korra learns something else about her mother. Despite her slight appearance, she is exceptionally _strong_. Without breaking a sweat, she drags the former Avatar across the icy floor and over to a small dresser. After undoing the latch on the front, she peels back the lid to reveal an assortment of fur-lined outerwear. "Make sure you dress warm," she advises. "I don't want you catching a cold."

And just like that Korra is four years old again, but there's something oddly comforting about their one-sided conversation. She only grumbles once more before standing up and pulling on her favorite coat.

* * *

Korra finds Tonraq waiting for her out by the water, two poles clutched firmly in one hand. She can already tell she isn't going to like the surprise.

"Impromptu fishing trip?" he suggests with a grin, extending one of the poles to her. Korra dismisses it with a measured glance and turns to leave, but Tonraq anticipates the move and latches his free arm around her waist. In one quick motion, he hoists her over his shoulder, and for the second time that day Korra feels like a little kid.

"Put. Me. Down!" Korra protests, punctuating each word with a smack of her fist. "I don't understand how you two have such insane upper-body strength!"

"It's the all-kelp diet, kid," Tonraq says with a laugh. "Keeps us fit." Then, sounding a little disappointed, "I thought you liked fishing."

"Yeah, when I was four, maybe," Korra mutters, but the fight's gone out of her, and she stops trying to beat her way out of his grip. "It was a lot easier when I could just waterbend them out of the ocean."

Tonraq's smile returns. "Now you get to learn how the rest of us do it." He plops her down into a canoe and offers her the fishing pole again. This time, she takes it.

* * *

Korra thinks she could get used to this, sitting out on the water, the breeze at her back. It seems a lot easier than restoring balance to the world, for one thing, and her dad makes for not so bad company. He's a bit silly, but Korra can see a part of herself in him. It's the part of her that stowed away on a ship bound for Republic City, the part that volunteered to fill in for a pro-bending team without any prior experience, without even knowing the rules. It's the part of her that Amon took away with one press of his thumb.

Korra shakes her head, tries to think about something else. Tonraq must notice the sudden slump in her shoulders, how she leans forward a bit, because he lets out a low whistle. He glances at her fishing pole, its lure left untouched from the moment she'd first cast it into the ocean over an hour ago. "Well, I guess we can rule out you being a fishbender."

Korra doesn't know why she finds this so funny. It's not so much the joke itself, but the fact that, after all that's happened, her father is actually trying to poke fun at her. She's grown used to people approaching her with delicacy, treating her like some fragile little doll until she frustrates them into leaving her alone. To hear herself being mocked so unabashedly is refreshing.

Laughter starts to expand within her, fills her lungs until there's no more room, and then she just lets it all out, shoulders shaking, whole body convulsing with the power of it as she leans back onto the bottom of the canoe. She throws her arms across her stomach as if she might somehow contain it, but it's no use. She laughs until there's nothing left, until her throat feels raw, until she's no doubt scared away all the fish from here to the North Pole.

She must sound like a complete idiot, laughing so loud for so long at an unfunny joke, but Tonraq just lets her have the moment, watching her with a warm, almost nostalgic smile. When at last she's exhausted herself, she sits up and looks at him. She can't figure out the words she needs to say, so she just throws her arms around his shoulders, drawing him into a fierce hug. The boat rocks with the movement, but as always, Tonraq is there to steady them.

"Avatar, airbender, non-bender; it doesn't matter which path you decide to take," Tonraq says. "To your mother and me, you'll always just be Korra."

And just like that, Korra knows exactly what she has to do.


End file.
